


Every Inch

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, and deserves to be told so, bathtime tenderness ahead, but he's beautiful, geralt is insecure, let's rain some love on geralt's glorious thighs, nudity but nothing explicit, they deserve all the appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Summary: Showing appreciation for Geralt's lovely thighs, god bless
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Kudos: 83





	Every Inch

Geralt had his eyes closed, and you quietly appreciated the trust displayed in his loose muscles, slumped posture and easy breathing. He knew he was safe with you and you knew that trust didn’t come to him easily.

He was lounging in the bath as you sat on the edge of the tub behind him. He had asked you to join him, but tonight you wanted to take care of him. So instead you carefully worked soap through his hair, washed dirt from his skin and rubbed oils into tense muscles as he slowly melted into you.

His head fell back onto your thigh and you carefully traced the curve of his throat with a fingertip.

He opened an eyelid to look up at you. “What are you doing?”

“Admiring you,” you replied simply, fingers following the line of his collarbone. He shivered, skin breaking into goosebumps. If he hadn’t been sitting between your legs, you might have missed the subtle tensing of his shoulders.

“Why?” he grumbled, eyes falling shut again. 

Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Because you’re beautiful, Geralt.” He sighed heavily.

“Y/N–”

“No, no arguing with me,” you chided him. Gently, you pushed on his back until he sat forward, allowing you to slide into the tub behind him. You pulled him back against you. He went, stiff and reluctant again, but you knew he wouldn’t have budged if he were unwilling. 

Pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder, you slid your hands along his thighs. Felt him shudder and twitch.

“Relax,” you breathed near his ear. “You won’t hurt me.”

“I’m not light, Y/N,” he grumbled, barely pressing against you at all.

You nuzzled the bolt of his jaw, felt him start to loosen. “That’s better. Come on, Geralt, I know you’d never hurt me.”

His hand shot down suddenly, clamping on yours where it was mapping his thigh. His voice was rough as he held your hands still. “I could. Easily, as I’ve done with many others.”

“Mm. But you won’t.” You rested your chin on his shoulder. It was easy to slide your hand out from under his, he wasn’t really trying to restrain you at all. You dug your fingers into the tense muscles of his thigh, working away the tension slowly.

“Every inch of you is lovely, Geralt. I hear how you talk about yourself, and I know you think all these scars and these muscles make you some hulking, beastly brute. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Y/N,” he muttered, voice a bit breathless. No one else would’ve caught the pleading in his tone, but you knew he wasn’t asking you to stop. This was the voice he used when he was wrecked and desperately needed you to continue.

“You have beautiful legs, Geralt. Long and elegant, yes, I love how tall you are. And I love your strong thighs. I enjoy sitting on them to feel you hold me against you. Feeling them wrap around me when I kneel to give you pleasure. Kneeling astride them to give you a kiss.” You dug your nails lightly into his thighs and he groaned, melting back against you.

“I love them because they are a part of you, strong and scarred and beautiful.”

“I love how even with both hands I can’t wrap them all the way around. I love watching the muscles in them shift and move when you walk around.”

Geralt turns his head to hide his face against the side of your throat, breaths shaky against your skin.

“I love the way they look clad in your armor. I love laying my head on them, they’re a lovely pillow and I love being so close to you and the way you’ll pet my hair when you think I’m asleep.” His breath hitched quietly against your skin.

Your fingers follow the web of scars, dancing across his skin, and he makes a sound almost like a whine, low and needy.

“And the scars on your thighs aren’t hideous like you think. They stand out pale on your skin and there’s a certain striking beauty to them that I don’t know how to put into words, but I love them as much as I love the rest of you.”

Geralt jerked back to look at you, a warm flush staining his cheeks ruddy, and he looked like a wounded animal, needing and desperate and aching. You lifted your hands to hold his face as you gave him a gentle kiss and he shut his eyes again. You leaned your forehead against his.

“I know you haven’t heard these words as often as you should have, so I’ll tell you as often as you need. Or as often as it pleases me.”

“Y/N….” Geralt’s quiet exhalation of your name sounded almost like a prayer, soft and reverent and awed. You kissed him again.

“Shh, my love. Let me take care of you for now.”

Geralt leaned forward, draping his body against yours. You resumed washing and massaging his skin, pressing kisses to whatever part of him you could reach until he stopped trembling, until the way he held you was less desperate and more like acceptance.

It didn’t matter if he believed everything you’d said. You would continue saying it until he did.


End file.
